


You Changed Everything

by TheBashfulPoet



Series: Dungeons & Foxes [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Exy (All For The Game), Character Study, Demisexuality, Dungeons & Dragons References, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23960998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBashfulPoet/pseuds/TheBashfulPoet
Summary: Neil didn't get kissing. Andrew showing up in his life didn't help clarify that confusion.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: Dungeons & Foxes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727476
Comments: 10
Kudos: 147





	You Changed Everything

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a class and thought why not post it now that it's gotten a final revision. I call this my unintentional sequel to Roll Initiative in which Neil doesn't get kissing but wants to kiss Andrew all the same.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it

When Matt asked if Neil wanted to play dungeons and dragons with a group of friends he met through work, Neil didn’t think much of it. In college, he had played with Matt before and remembered enjoying the experience even if their game eventually got waylaid by piling final projects and deadlines. Neil said yes mainly because his Saturdays consisted of him sitting alone on their couch all night watching ESPN and thought playing would be a better alternative. What he didn’t expect was falling in love with the game all over again — immersing himself in a character intent on causing as much harm as he did good, arguing with his tablemates over the best course of action, and going on epic quests of grandiose adventures. Saturdays quickly became the highlight of Neil’s week not only because they meant three hours of uninterrupted dungeons and dragons but with them came Andrew.

Andrew, who looked Neil straight in the eye and called him a “fucking menace” as he rolled his dice; who met Neil word for word in a series of witty barbs and dry remarks during every session; who made Neil’s chest tighten painfully every time their arms accidentally brushed against each other and his heart pound in his ears when their eyes lingered a little too long on each other. If Neil didn’t expect the impact picking up D&D again would have on his life, he sure as hell could not have guessed the complete and utter confusion Andrew left in his wake — confusion because, for the first time in his life, Neil felt the burning urge to lean over the table and _kiss_ Andrew.

***

As a kid, Neil never thought much of kissing. Never understood the appeal of slotting his mouth together with someone else’s. He remembered the confusion he felt as a kid whenever people in the movies would kiss — how they always made it this big production but all he could think about was how awkward it all seemed. Maybe it’s one of those things that you only like when you get older, kind of like those shitty beers his uncle liked to drink on the weekends. Or maybe he would like it just because everyone expected him to.

So, in 9th grade, Neil kissed Becky. They were playing spin the bottle and Neil sat there thinking of how he could stand up and walk away without anyone noticing when the bottle landed on him. At first, he hadn’t even noticed until the group started jeering and the boys next to him jostled his shoulders. He considered leaving right there — thought of walking away to find Matt and convince him to leave this stupid party when he followed the line of the bottle and saw Becky. He saw her hunched over shoulders and the flush of her face so deep it almost matched the shade of the lipstick she wore, and he knew that he couldn’t leave to the cruel embarrassment that would follow his refusal. So, he swallowed the knot in his throat, shrugged his shoulders in feigned nonchalance, leaned over the stretch of chanting teenagers in a circle, and pressed his lips to hers completely confused about what he was supposed to do next. Shouldn’t noses get in the way? And what about your tongue? What the hell was he supposed to do with his _tongue_?

But he couldn’t back out now, so he kept his eyes shut like the people in the movies, titled his head to avoid the bump of their noses, and kissed Becky. The first thought that crossed his mind was _wet_ , the second tacky as the waxy residue of her lipstick coated his lips in what he’s sure would be a red smear when they pulled apart. He stayed there pressed against her mouth for what seemed like hours until kids started whistling and clapping and Neil figured it was safe enough to pull away. Becky gave him a small smile when his eyes met hers, but he quickly looked away and let the noise of the others distract him from meeting her gaze again. The first moment he could, he slipped away wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and grimacing at the weird cold feeling in his chest.

***

At 19, Neil just thought that _all_ kissing was like that — was that wet tacky nothingness of pressed lips. He certainly felt that way when he kissed Samantha in the 10th grade a week after she gave him a love letter. It happened when Judith kissed him in 11th grade at a party, her drunken mouth pressed against his in a room full of cheering onlookers; again with Marissa in 12th when they both tentatively leaned in after what Neil thought was a decent date and was _sure_ would be different and then nothing. No movie time sparks, no feelings of gravity inverting, no flames or butterflies or undeniable need to keep kissing like every movie promised. _Nothing_. Wet, tacky, and empty.

Neil did not realize anything was wrong until Matt met Danielle the summer before college at some sporting camp their parents had sent them. Suddenly, all Matt seemed to talk about was Dan this and Dan that and Dan was such an amazing kisser Neil, oh my god! Neil would be more upset about it if he couldn’t see that dopey grin on his best friend’s face when he spoke of her. When Dan started hanging around more and the couple started getting more openly affectionate with each other, Neil witnessed how different kissing was for other people. He saw that when they kissed — even if it was just a simple peck of the lips — it was more than just a kiss. It was a small smile that involuntarily on their lips as they pulled away; a lingering glance at each other’s mouths like they want another. No grimace or frown that sometimes adorned Neil’s face when he pulled away or that shudder Marissa swore she felt the moment their lips met.

And Neil... Neil didn’t understand. Was he doing something wrong? Did he not kiss hard enough or put his tongue was in all the wrong places? Maybe he just wasn’t into girls at all. It’s not like he’d never thought about kissing guys — he didn’t really think about kissing _anyone_ — he just never really saw a reason to kiss them. He thought it would be just more of the same. So, when college started, Neil kissed Steve then Brian then Josh and still _nothing_.

It was different, sure. The kisses weren’t tacky like those with girls; these kisses were rougher and, the lips more rugged and chapped, the skin of their jaws prickly with stubble they’d forgotten to shave that morning, their hands bigger and their faces sharper, yet underneath all the change it was still the same. Neil kissed Peter and Laura and Henry and Beth, but it never changed. Every one of them wet and _nothing_. It started eating him alive. He started doubting himself. Every time he pressed his lips to another, he came away feeling just a little bit colder. Just a little bit more broken.

***

When Neil turned 20, he moved in with Matt and Dan in a small dingy apartment which turned out to be the worst mistake in his life. He loved Matt and Dan had quickly become one of his closest friends over the years, and most days Neil looked forward to coming home to the closest people in his life. But then he saw Matt and Dan curled on the couch — would see the careless way Dan had thrown her feet over Matt’s lap and how he absently rubbed them as he watched TV. He saw the way Matt kissed the top of Dan’s head in the morning while he was half awake or the way Dan stretched up on the tips of her toes to peck his cheek when she left for work and Neil’s chest would tighten because he was _jealous_. He _wanted_ that, _craved_ it.

Eventually, it must have shown on his face because one day after Matt had left for work Dan had caught Neil on the way out of the kitchen and sat him down at the counter. She didn’t say anything right away, just sat him down and pushed a plate full of fruit and toast in front of him, and waited until he started eating. When he cleared half of the plate, she finally spoke up.

“Are Matt and I bothering you? Because if we are, you can tell me. I won’t be upset or mad.”

Neil sighed and set down his fork. “No, it’s not that.”

“Neil,” she said his name firmly enough to draw his eyes to hers. They shined with concern. “You can tell me.”

“Dan-”

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing, Neil. We’ve noticed how you’re never in the apartment anymore when we’re here, how you won’t look either of us in the eye in the morning.” She paused. “Please just tell me what we did wrong instead of shutting us out.”

“Noth-” Her glare cut him off and he swallowed the rest of the word. “Really, it’s nothing you did, not really. It’s me.” His fingers circled the edge of his plate. “I’m just… I don’t know, jealous or something. Seeing the two of you together and in love, I don’t… yeah.”

“Oh Neil,” she reached over and curled her fingers with his. “We love you too, you know that right? And if it makes you uncomfortable, we can tone down the couplely stuff in front of you. This is your home, too, and we never want to feel like you don’t belong.”

Neil smiled and squeezed her fingers. “I know. I love you guys too and you don’t make me uncomfortable. It’s just, I want what you guys have but I don’t think I ever will. I don’t think I’m capable of that.”

“Well, that’s a load of bullshit.” She scoffed, squeezing him back. “You, Neil Josten, are a catch and any girl or guy would be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks, Dan, but I don’t think it’s the girl or the guy that’s the problem. I think it’s me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think I’m broken,” he whispered in a small voice.

“No,” Dan said in a firm voice that brokered no argument. “You’re a lot of things but broken is _not_ one of them. Stubborn yes. Rash, undeniably so. But _never_ broken do you hear me?”

He said nothing.

“ _Do you hear me?_ ”

She stared him hard in the eye until he nodded his head. “Yes, I hear you.”

“Good.” Another squeeze, this time harder than the last. “Now why don’t you tell me why you think that.”

So he did. He told her about the wet and tacky kisses and the wet and rough ones and the yawning pit of nothingness in his chest when they were over. He told her how the easy comfortable way Matt and she fell into each other made his chest ache with want and jealousy and despair that he may never experience that for himself because he just didn’t feel that way about people. He told her all of that and when he was done she reached over the counter and wrapped him in the tightest hug.

“I love you and I’m sorry you were feeling all those things and dealing with it on your own.”

“S’okay” he mumbled into her chest.

She pulled away, hand still firm on his shoulders. “You’re not broken.”

“Dan, I-”

“No shut up. You’re not broken. You might be-” She shook her head. “Neil, have you ever heard the term ‘asexual’?”

“Asexual? I… not really?”

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Look, I’m not saying that this will fix all your problems or that you even are asexual, but maybe you should look into it. I can ask a friend for some reading materials or we can just google it together if you want. Just... I think it might help.”

“You think so?”

“I hope so. But even if it doesn’t, we still love you, and we’ll figure it out, okay?”

They stayed silent for a while, letting the weight of her words rest as heavy as the weight of her hands on his shoulders. Eventually, he pulled away feeling just a little bit lighter.

“Thanks, Dan.”

“Always, Neil.” She grinned, “Now what do you say we go outside and play some rugby and forget this heavy stuff for a while, yeah?”

They spent the rest of the afternoon tackling each other into the field behind their apartment complex until their bodies ached and their skin glistened with sweat and Matt found them hours later sprawled on the floor of the living room too tired to take another step. Later, when Matt and Dan had gone to bed, Neil curled into his bed with his laptop and opened a new tab to google. He stared at the blinking cursor in the white rectangle and reached for his keyboard.

The first result was a definition — a five-word summation that meant nothing to him. Then it was pictures of a striped flag, grey, purple, white, and black hanging from people’s fingers or painted on cheeks. He clicked through picture after picture before it all became a blur and he retreated to the landing page. Then he opened on a video simply titled “5 Asexual People Explain What ‘Asexual’ Means to Them” and he watched speechless in wonder.

Neil listened as person after person appeared on screen and described every complicated emotion he ever felt. Listened as they talked about the fear of brokenness that consumed them because they didn’t feel the way the “normal” person did about physical attraction or connection — about how for a long time they thought they weren’t doing something right when in reality there was no “right.” When they started talking about how despite that lack of attraction, they still felt the need for connection with someone — craved for it at times, Neil felt like they had stolen he words directly from his chest.

Morning came, he shut his laptop and stared at the ceiling as the morning sun poured in through the cracks of his blinds and bathed the room in a soft orange glow. He opened his mouth and greeted the new day with a whisper of “I’m asexual.”

It felt a lot like relief.

Neil told Dan quietly over breakfast a week later and she reached over and tangled her fingers with his. He told Matt a few days after that, slipping it in casually during one of their runs, and Matt scooped him up in a hug so tight Neil couldn’t breathe even if it did nothing to stop the smile from his lips. The revelation didn’t magically change his life or solve all his problems — some days his chest still ached when he saw Matt and Dan being especially domestic. Some days that nagging thought in the back of his mind whispered how he was broken and weird and wrong for not feeling certain attractions to people, but most days, Neil learned to shut them out. Most days he looked at Matt and Dan and remembered they loved him. He looked at them and thought that one day he would have something like that even if it would never be the same.

***

At 22, Neil met Andrew and things got complicated. Suddenly there existed this _want_. It was as surprising as it was confusing. But perhaps Neil should have expected that. After all, a lot of things about Andrew surprised Neil. It surprised Neil how Andrew seemed gruff and stand-offish — and most of the time _was_ — yet always showed up first when someone needed his help. Like the time Matt’s truck died in the middle of the highway late one night and Andrew drove out to help him fix it or when Kevin forgot his laptop over at Andrew’s place one night and Andrew brought it before Kevin’s zero period class at the high school across the opposite side of town. It surprised Neil how anal-retentive Andrew could be about keeping his notes organized and his character sheet tidy but would let Neil doodle in the margins when they sat next to each other — how he would slide an empty page of his notes when Neil ran out of room. It surprised Neil when he would make a joke low enough only for Andrew to hear and he would be rewarded with a small twitch of lips and a huff of sharp laughter that would send Neil’s stomach into knots.

What surprised Neil the most about Andrew, however, was how much he wanted Andrew like he’s never really wanted anyone before. It didn’t change how he felt about anyone else. He didn’t suddenly want to kiss other people or found himself irresistibly pulled into attraction every time some mildly pretty person walked by — it was only Andrew. And damn if that didn’t make Neil want to tear his hair out because _why?_ Why after years of feeling that all-encompassing nothing in his chest — after finally coming to terms with that nothing and accepting he was just different — did he now feel this deep and undeniable _something_ blooming in his chest when the thought of Andrew? It terrified Neil.

So, he did what every other sensible person would do in his situation, he did nothing. He didn’t tell anyone or mention it in passing or otherwise gave any hint at the complete and utter turmoil in his brain. Instead, he sat and pretended like everything was okay at breakfast with Matt and Dan; he showed up to the weekly sessions of D&D and sat next to Andrew and acted like his heart didn’t squeeze every time Andrew looked his way or that his pulse didn’t race when their hands accidentally brushed. Neil did nothing but pine and resign himself to this all confusing _something_ and dreaded the moment when Andrew realized Neil’s feeling — and by some miracle _returned_ them — and Neil somehow ruined it by not being able to do something as simple as kiss somebody without anything but wet and nothing.

And then Neil showed up at Andrew’s apartment, alone, out of breath, and high on the adrenaline of being near that _something_ , and Neil wished that he could kiss Andrew and not be terrified of what would happen after.

Maybe Andrew thought the same because he stepped closer and closer until they were only inches apart. Neil felt the steady rise and fall of Andrew’s chest against his as Andrew leaned in closer and closer, and Neil panicked. He panicked that it would be all wet and nothing and _wrong_. He panicked that the kiss would ruin everything because how could a fucking _kiss_ encompass everything he felt in his chest when Andrew walked into a room or when Neil saw that tiny twitch of a barely-there smile on Andrew’s face. Neil panicked because he hoped like hell a kiss _could_ but knew it wouldn’t. So, he braced himself for that wet and nothing and utter heartbreak when Andrew stopped.

He stopped leaning in. He stopped brushing against Neil. He stopped everything and just stared.

And Neil was almost relieved. Relieved because he could delude himself a bit longer that kissing Andrew would be different than all the other times — could _convince_ himself that it would. Almost because the second that relief registered on Neil’s face, Andrew’s shut down and he stepped away. Then Neil wasn’t relieved, he was filled with _dread_.

“My mistake,” Andrew said blandly, turning away “I’ll just-”

“No!” The word ripped out of Neil’s mouth so fast he almost bites his tongue.

Andrew stopped and waited. When Neil doesn’t say anything — doesn’t know _how_ to untangle the words from his throat — Andrew sighed and folded his arms over his chest. “Are you going to say something or am I free to go now?”

Neil opened his mouth but all that came out was a strangled whispered, “No.”

“No, what Neil? No don’t go or no you don’t want me to kiss you because I’m getting mixed signals here.”

Neil closed his eyes, swallowed down the jumble of words, and said, “Don’t leave.”

Andrew stared at him for a long moment before sighing. “Okay.” Neil slumped in relief. “But you’re going to have to tell me what that was all about.”

Neil tensed.

“ _Neil_.”

“It’s…” he searches for the right word. “Complicated.”

“Explain it anyways.”

Neil paused, thought, and decided to start with the simple truth. “I want to kiss you.”

“But?” Andrew prompted.

“But I’m afraid that all it will be is wet and I really _really_ don’t want that because I _like_ you. A lot.”

It’s like those words released a dam and it all came flooding out. His budding feelings, his panic over that wet and nothing, the truth about his maybe asexuality, _everything_. And Andrew just stood there patiently as Neil word vomited until the silence fell over them once more.

When it appeared that Neil was done speaking, Andrew said, “So you’re asexual.”

“Maybe?” Neil winced. “I honestly don’t know anymore. I never felt like this before. I _still_ don’t. Only for you. Just you.”

Andrew nodded, “So you’re maybe asexual and you want to kiss me back but you’re afraid you won’t feel anything, and I’ll leave you for it.”

Neil flushed and turned his head. “When you said it like that, it sounds stupid.”

“Hey,” Andrew grabbed his chin and gently tugged his head, so their eyes met again. “It’s not stupid.”

He said it with such conviction and certainty that Neil couldn’t help but believe him. “Okay.”

They stared at each other in complete silence until Andrew leaned his forehead against Neil’s. “I want to kiss you, yes or no?”

“But-”

“Hear me out. You want to kiss me, and I want to kiss you, so let’s just do it. Fuck what-ifs. We try it and then if you’re uncomfortable or it’s unpleasant in any way then we stop and figure it out from there. No pressure, no risk. I’m not leaving you just because we have one bad kiss.”

“And if all the kisses are bad?” Because Neil couldn’t promise that they wouldn’t be. Not when 22 years have taught him as much.

“Then we work from there,” Andrew repeated, the breath of his words fanning across Neil’s face.

Andrew leans closer. “Yes or no?”

And Neil decided that one more leap couldn’t hurt. Not when Andrew would be there to catch him at the end. “Yes.”

And then Andrew’s lips met his and all Neil could think was, _oh_.

It wasn’t earth-shattering like all the movies made it out to be. It didn’t render gravity useless or release a storm of butterflies in his stomach. It honestly was a little bit wet. But what surprised Neil was that under that wet was something soft and warm that emanated from his chest — a softness that only grew when Andrew’s fingers curled into the hair at the nape of Neil’s neck and pulled him impossibly closer. A warmth that raced through every nerve in his body until he was vibrating from the zing it left in its wake.

Neil had braced himself for that nothing but what he found was the warm whisper of _something_ caressing his cheek with Andrew’s eyelashes on his cheek, the warm press of a body against his own, and the soft breath of air that fanned across his face when they finally pulled away for air. His knees felt weak and wobbly and he’s positive that if Andrew’s weight hadn’t been leaned against his own, he would have fallen flat on his ass.

“I’ve wanted to do that ever since you spilled water all over my character sheet.”

And Neil, Neil couldn’t help it. He tilted his head back and laughed. Laughed until his sides hurt, and tears sprang in his eyes because he felt giddy and good and _full_. Andrew scowled at him and began pulling away, but Neil stopped him before he could get too far — body loose and pliant and a little drunk on that warmth still spilling from his chest.

“I’m glad you did,” he smiles and leans closer until his forehead rests on Andrew’s. Neil leans in, tentative and slow and maybe just a little bit scared until Andrew meets him halfway in another soft kiss. It’s still a little wet but so so warm.

***

Later that night, Neil found himself right where he started, alone in his room with his computer opened to a new tab and a blinking cursor in a white search bar. Only this time, his heart raced in his chest and his lips tingled from the press of Andrew’s lips on his own. He found his fingers pressing against them in a mock pressure of that kiss — hoping to quell the tingling or encourage it he doesn’t know but it left his mind reeling even as a smile tugged on his face.

He didn’t understand. When he last sat here like this, he thought the found the answer to the question he’d been asking himself his whole life — he thought he understood that hole in his chest and that wet press of nothing when he kissed others. But then Andrew’s kiss wouldn’t have felt like _that_ , wouldn’t have made Neil’s lips tingle and his toes curl just thinking about doing it again. It didn’t make sense, so Neil decided to go back to square one starting with that damn blinking cursor.

It blinked once then twice and then five times before he finally reached for the keyboard. The first few attempts didn’t result in much, either telling him that he was gay or confused, but he wasn’t. He didn’t feel this way over other guys or even the _thought_ of other guys or thought that kissing someone else would be better or warm. It was just Andrew. _Only Andrew_. But where did that leave him?

He tried another search and then another until his clock struck midnight and he wanted to tear his hair out in sheer frustration. And then, 12 pages deep and three hours wasted in the bottomless pit of information, he found it. 10 neat little letters that changed everything. Demisexual.

He read it over and over again until the word was seared into his brain. He smiled and closed his laptop, letting his body flop back against his mattress and the world dim around him without the glow of his screen. Demisexual.

This time it didn’t feel like relief. It felt right. It felt like him.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm writing again. I have several projects in the works and yes before anyone asks my werewolf AU is on that list. It's just pushed back for some other pieces that have a more immediate deadline. You'll see. Regardless I hope you enjoyed this story! It was hard to write and I hope I nailed down Neil's demisexuality at least a little bit.
> 
> Cheers!


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